


I Will Find You In Any Universe

by GiveALittleRespect



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, AU!Ian, M/M, Mpreg, Pandemic - Freeform, Separation, True Love, dimension-jumping, idek, literal alternate universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23187670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiveALittleRespect/pseuds/GiveALittleRespect
Summary: Due to a global pandemic, Ian and Mickey have to go to an alternate Earth to survive. Mickey winds up going ahead of Ian, and finds himself in an alternate Chicago with another Ian...who's never met him before.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mandy Milkovich, Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 23
Kudos: 112





	1. Chapter 1

Mickey never thought it would come to this. 

Not only was there a fucking pandemic raging across the world and leading to mandatory evacuations, but apparently there weren’t enough Safe Zones left on the entire planet. Which means he’s standing in line with Ian, each of them holding one large duffel bag (growing up poor in the Southside means knowing exactly what the essentials are) as they wait to cross through a…

...Mickey can’t even wrap his mind around the words. A fucking portal to an alternate Earth. Yeah, that’s right, he’s about to fucking dimension-jump or whatever the weird-ass sci-fi term for it is. This shit only ever happens on TV. On shows where all the effects are bad CGI. This doesn’t happen in reality.

Well, not his reality, until now. He kind of tuned out all the rumors and talking heads squawking about “new breakthroughs” and “confirmation of the existence of at least one alternate universe.” He let Ian geek out over that stuff with Liam and Lip, the Three Nerd-sketeers. He had other stuff to worry about, like keeping his nose clean for his PO and getting a job working at an auto repair place instead of retail. He wanted to be able to keep paying rent on his and Ian’s one-bedroom apartment on the less-shitty side of town for as long as possible. 

Basically, he’d been trying to live a normal fucking life and life had sneered at him and gone, “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Nice try, Milkovich.”

He should have realized things were never going to be normal when he went in for a routine drug test and the nurse congratulated him on being pregnant.

He'd almost broken his “never hit women” rule when she showed him the results on paper, assured him there was no mistake, and no, she was not “fucking crazy” and did not appreciate his tone. 

Ian had been a saint, of course. He’d let Mickey rant about it as much as he wanted, then wrapped him up in a hug for about five minutes.

“We can do this or not do this,” he’d whispered in Mickey’s ear. “Either way, I love you.”

So they were doing this. 

“Mick?”

Mickey focuses on Ian, who’s just taken his hand. “You okay? You look kind of spacey.”

Mickey smirks. “Is that a joke? I’m fine. Just...it’s weird being here, about to…” He gestures vaguely in the direction of what he keeps picturing as a swirly blue vortex, even though they can’t see the “portal” from here. “Do that.”

Ian smiles. “Yeah. I used to wish this stuff was real when I was a kid, but now that it is…” He shrugs. 

“It’s fucking weird,” Mickey sums up. “Like, what are we supposed to do once we get to Earth Two or whatever? Won’t we run into our alternate selves? What if they try to kill us? Not that I’m planning on goin’ out being shot by some fucking clone of myself, but--”

“There’s really no way to know,” Ian says patiently. “In that universe, we might not even exist. Maybe my parents stopped after two kids, or Frank and Monica never met, or maybe neither of us grew up in Chicago. The best thing to do once we’re there is make sure we’re the only Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich in the area, just to avoid confusion.”

“And if there’s confusion?”

“Then we’ll go somewhere other than the Southside and lay low until we can come back.” Ian pulls Mickey closer--he’s been a little clingy lately, but so has Mickey. “We’ll be okay.”

Right. Of course they will. They’re only about to jump through a portal into an alternate universe where they might meet God knows who or what, and they’re expected to stay the fuck there until they get the all-clear that it’s safe to come home. 

But "We’ll be okay” is their code for “I know this is fucking terrifying, and I got you.” So they let each other say it as much as they need to. 

Ian shifts his bag to his other shoulder and puts his free hand on Mickey’s stomach.

“You sure the kid’s going to be okay?”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “I wish I fucking knew. Not like I can leave him here. My doctor said it was okay since I’m only eight weeks, but how the fuck would she even be able to determine if inter-dimensional travel is safe for a fucking fetus?”

Ian smiles in spite of himself. “Yeah, that’s a head-scratcher.”

Mickey can hear the tension in his voice, and covers Ian’s hand with his own.

“We’re okay. Kid’s fine. They don’t get much tougher than Milkovich-Gallagher hybrids.”

Ian kisses the top of his head. “Damn straight.”

***

Mickey’s just getting back from a much-needed bathroom trip when he sees Ian at the front of the line, arguing heatedly with the woman at the desk.

His heart plummets when he hears her repeating “I’m sorry, sir” to everything Ian says. That's never good.

“What’s goin’ on?” Mickey says, approaching the desk. She glances at him.

“Are you Mr. Gallagher’s spouse?”

“Yeah,” Mickey says tersely. “What’s goin’ on?”

“They won’t let me go with you,” Ian says bitingly. “Which is bullshit, because we were both approved to go on this trip and nobody said anything about group size limits--”

“The new limits were just put into place this morning,” Desk Lady says. “I’m truly sorry for the inconvenience, but there’s still room for you in the next group.”

“When does that one leave?” Mickey asks, heart pounding all over his body because he’s damned if he’s going anywhere without Ian. 

“The next scheduled transport is in twenty-four hours. We stagger them for safety reasons.”

In any other context, being apart from Ian for one day would just be annoying. Mickey’s not fucking co-dependent, he could handle it. Except this is different, because he’ll have to be an entire motherfucking dimension away from his husband for an entire day. 

“You go,” he says automatically, pulling Ian away from the desk. “Take our shit and go, I’ll see you tomorrow--”

“No.”

Oh, fuck his entire life, he knew Ian would do this. 

“Ian,” Mickey says warningly. “Don’t get all noble on me.You just go ahead with this group. It’s one day, it’s not--”

“My husband’s pregnant,” Ian says, whirling around to address that little bit of news to Desk Lady. “He’ll go and I’ll wait here.”

“The fuck, Gallagher?!” Mickey yells. “I just said--”

Ian turns back to him and grips his shoulders. “Mickey, I am not going to let you stay behind and possibly get sick. The sooner you get out of here, the safer you’ll be.”

Mickey grabs onto Ian in return. “You could get sick too, asshole. Then they won’t even let you through.”

“I’m fine,” Ian says, stubborn fuck that he is. “I want you and the baby to be safe.”

Mickey tries to stay mad, but it’s ebbing away thanks to an onslaught of hormones and knowing that Ian’s just trying to look out for him.

“We’re safe with you,” he murmurs, stepping closer until their foreheads touch. “Ian, please, let’s just go together tomorrow.”

Ian kisses him, and for a second Mickey thinks he’s changed his mind, but then he pulls back and hands Mickey his bag.

“You go. I’ll find you, I promise. I love you, Mickey.”

Mickey feels like he can’t breathe, and tears start to prick in his eyes. This feels just like the time Ian left him at the fucking border, all those years ago. 

“Ian--” He doesn’t know what to say, and he sort of hates Ian for this, but there’s no more time for long farewells because Ian’s literally pushing him back in line. 

“Fuck you, Gallagher!” Mickey calls over his shoulder, his voice sounding choked even to his ears. Ian gives him a smile and waves until the group is through the door and they can’t see each other.

***  
Turns out, the human body doesn’t handle dimension-jumping very well. Most of the people Mickey’s traveling with immediately lose their breakfasts as soon as their feet touch solid ground, and Mickey is pretty much incapacitated with dizziness and feeling like he left half his internal organs back on his own planet.

The first thing he learns about this new universe is that the grass is green, and feels just like it does back home. 

The next thing is that the sun is just as bright, and once his eyes adjust, he looks around to see….what looks like the same Chicago he just left.

For a minute, he honestly wonders if this has all been a giant scam and he’s exactly where he was before. 

He doesn’t get up right away--it seems safer to stay put until his ears stop ringing and his legs don’t feel like rubber. So he has time to stare at the familiar view, and gradually notices some incongruities. Certain buildings aren’t there, and the architecture is different. There are no elevator trains. The air even feels cleaner to breathe, which is nice. 

But Ian’s not with him. He even looks around, hoping wildly that maybe he managed to sneak into the group with them after all, but he’s not there. 

So, Mickey’s here with a bunch of strangers and his husband is a literal world away. This is probably the most bizarre and horrible day of his life, and it’s not even over yet. 

*TBC*


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey gets familiar with his surroundings, and meets a few familiar faces.

There’s a tent set up nearby, and Mickey endures a routine physical to make sure he came through the portal all in one piece. He mentions that he’s pregnant, so they do a quick ultrasound, and the relief he feels when he hears the kid’s heartbeat floors him. 

“Knew you were tough,” he says, smiling at the blob on the screen. “Just stay put, okay?”

Once that’s over, he gets on a shuttle with the rest of the group to the hotel that they’ll be living in for the foreseeable future. Mickey can’t stop staring out the window for the whole ride, not even registering how everyone else is reacting to Chicago 2. 

He keeps expecting to see somebody he knows, doppelgangers or whatever of the people from his world, and part of him doesn’t want to because he might just freak the fuck out. What if he runs into another Ian? How would he even tell him apart from--

Ah, fuck that, he’d know his Ian Gallagher anywhere. 

The idea of two versions of his husband is sufficiently distracting, and just as he’s starting to indulge in some truly gratifying fantasies, the shuttle stops in front of the hotel.

Apparently their accommodations are paid for, so he checks into his room, unpacks his bag (leaving room for Ian’s stuff when he gets here tomorrow) and lies down on the bed. 

Five minutes later, he decides sleeping is not something he’s ready to do, so he orders some room service (he can just hear Ian telling him he needs to remember to eat regularly,) and flips through the TV channels until the food arrives. 

He learns two things--food tastes the same here as it does back home, is made from roughly the same ingredients (though he’s not taking any chances and ordering a meat dish just yet) and TV on Earth 2 is...slightly better. Less reality shows about celebrities, and a lot of documentaries about stuff that never happened on Earth 1. If Ian was here, he’d probably be fascinated. Well, whatever, they’ll have plenty of time to catch up on local history while they’re stuck here together.

After lunch, he’s itching to go out and explore. Survival instincts are telling him that he needs to get his bearings, so he makes sure to grab his room card before heading back outside.

It’s such a normal day out--sunny, warm, people going about their business--that Mickey feels spooked. He keeps expecting to see some glaring, unmistakable difference pop out at him at any moment. But the closest he gets to that is a headline in a newspaper stand (those are still a thing here, looks like) announcing that President Streep will be seeking a second term in office. 

Huh.

Instinct draws him toward the familiar parts of town, and he finds himself a block from his old house--well, it’s not his old house. But he would know it anywhere. Thing is, it doesn’t look half-bad. Even from here, he can tell that it’s in better shape. There’s no crap all over the lawn--hell, there are lawn ornaments on the damn grass--the windows aren’t broken, and when he gets closer, he sees that the porch isn’t sagging, the door isn’t almost off it’s hinges from being shoved, kicked and slammed for years, and if he had no idea where he was, he might think some halfway decent people lived here. 

It’s freaking him out, honestly. What does this mean about his--Other Mickey’s--family? What are these Milkoviches like? 

If he sees someone come out of that door in a suit and they’re not on their way to a court date, he might just lose his fucking mind. 

He hangs back from the house, wishing he had a cigarette or something to quell his nerves, and he sees a little Volkwagen park in front of the house. Mandy gets out, and his heart flips because she looks good. Happy. Her hair’s the same chestnut shade it was before she started dyeing the hell out of it, her clothes look like she got them from a decent thrift store, and she’s laughing and talking to someone who’s getting out of the car--

Mickey’s heart stops. Holy fuck, it’s Ian. 

***

For about two seconds, Mickey wonders how the hell Ian made it here so fast. Then he realizes this can’t be his Ian--he’s dressed differently, he isn’t even looking around for Mickey, and he takes Mandy’s hand and smiles at her like she’s his fucking girlfriend or something. 

Yeah, right. No matter what universe he’s in, Mickey knows that Ian is one hundred percent--

\---kissing his little sister on the fucking mouth right now. Voluntarily.

“WHAT THE FUCK, GALLAGHER?”

***

It takes about a minute to get Mandy to stop hitting him for pulling Ian off her. 

“How the fuck did you get out of prison this time?” she snaps. “Did you tunnel out, or just have a metric ton of drugs shoved up your ass?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Mickey snarls back, nursing a bruised jaw. She still punches like a Milkovich, he’ll give her that. “I wasn’t in prison.”

“Well, not for long,” she says. “How’d you even get back?”

He ignores the question because there is a slightly more pressing issue at hand. 

“Why the fuck were you kissing her?” he demands of Ian, who looks affronted.

“Cause she’s my girlfriend,” he says, eyeing Mickey like he has no idea why he’s so upset. 

“The fuck she is,” Mickey scoffs. “You’re gay.”

“Mickey!” Mandy cries, but Ian just looks more confused.

“I’m not gay.”

Mickey laughs bitterly. “Oh, you’re fucking gay, trust me. I would know.”

Ian’s confusion only seems to deepen. “How? I don’t even know you.”

And that’s when it sinks in that he’s talking to a stranger.

***

“Jesus, Mickey, wake the fuck up and get inside.”

Mickey blinks. The last thing he remembers is hearing Ian say he doesn’t know him. After that, everything went spotty and then totally black and now he’s lying in his front yard, hoping to God that this has all been a dream and he’s back in the real Chicago, hearing his actual sister’s voice.

But it’s not, because when his eyes focus, they land on Alternate Mandy and In-the-Closet-Ian, who are looking down at him with concern mixed with irritation. He slowly levies himself up on his elbows and looks at them both.

“Were you serious?” he asks Ian. “You have no idea who I am?”

Ian shakes his head slowly. “I mean, I know you’re Mandy’s brother, but this is literally the first time I’m meeting you. I’m Ian Gallagher, and you must be Mickey. How was jail?”

“Fine,” Mickey grunts, deciding to play along for now. Mandy grabs his arm to help him up, and he instinctively reaches out for Ian, but all he does is hover until Mickey’s back on his feet.

“Are you drunk?” Mandy demands. “Cause Mom’s going to kill you if you came back wasted.”

“Mom?” Mickey stares at the front door as if he’s expecting to see the mother who ran out on them when he was six standing there. “She’s back?”

Mandy rolls her eyes. “She will be once her shift’s over, dumbass. Come on, let’s get you sobered up and work on your story.”

She puts an arm around him as they climb the stairs, and he glances back at Ian.

“You comin’?”

Ian looks at Mandy, then shrugs. “No, I’ll come back later. Um...nice to meet you, Mickey.”

Mickey’s guts feel like they’re being twisted just hearing those words. Keep it together, Milkovich, he’s not the same guy.

“Mick?” Mandy’s got the door open, and Mickey has to brace himself for the utterly surreal experience of walking into a house that’s like his but not his.

***

The house looks...nice. No fancy furniture or anything, but it’s a lot cleaner and less cluttered than his old place. 

“Where does Mom work?” he asks, then has to add, “Thought she switched jobs” when Mandy looks at him weird.

“She’s still at the Alibi. Practically runs the place. I keep telling her she should buy it,” Mandy says, turning on the coffee machine in the kitchen. “Maybe she can get you a job there. Do you have a parole officer yet? I hear Frank Gallagher’s always looking for more ex-cons.”

“Ian’s dad’s a parole officer?” Mickey lets out a yelp of laughter. “Holy shit.”

“No, Frank’s his uncle,” Mandy says patiently. “He’s a dick, but he’s good at his job. You’ll probably end up working somewhere you’re completely unqualified for but make a lot of money under the table. How’s your Spanish?”

Mickey shrugs. “Okay, I guess.” He glances toward the door that, in his world, led to his old room. “Look, I really just want to crash for a little while. Can we talk later?”

Mandy steps in front of him before he can escape to his room. “Wait. The cops aren’t going to come looking for you, are they?”

“No,” Mickey says tiredly. “I’m...I’m out on early release. All legit, okay? Now can I take a nap?”

“One more thing,” Mandy persists. “How did you know Ian’s last name before he told you?”

“He probably doesn’t remember me from school.”

She looks confused. “You didn’t go to his school.”

Shit. This is getting complicated. Mickey pushes past her and walks into his room, and the sight of so many familiar things--even his old Journey poster--is so comforting that for the first time since he got here, he relaxes and falls onto the bed. 

The entire world outside can go fuck itself. He just wants to sleep. 

***

When he wakes up, Mandy’s sitting on the edge of his bed. He frowns at her. 

“What d’you want?”

She holds up his hotel card, which must have fallen out of his pocket. “What’s this?”

He grabs it from her. “I got a room. Mind your own business.”

“Okay, then explain this.” She’s got his fucking wallet--what is she, a pickpocket?--and yanks out his driver’s license. “Since when do you have a license? Do they give driving lessons in prison now?”

Sensing things are unraveling fast, Mickey sits up. “Look, Mands, I can explain--”

“It’s obviously fake,” she scoffs. “Cause according to this, you’re married.”

He doesn’t say anything. 

“Mick?” Mandy looks at him uncertainly. “Wait...okay, you’re fucking with me. You’re not married.”

He looks down at the ring on his finger, and Mandy’s eyes follow him.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes. “Mickey! Who did you marry? And when? You asshole, I can’t believe you met someone--”

“It’s not like that,” he interrupts, feeling like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. “Mands, I’ve been married for a long time. Well...three years, but--”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mandy leans in eagerly. “You eloped? Was it Angie? She’s had the hots for you since first grade.”

Mickey recoils. “What? Fuck no, it wasn’t Angie!”

“Okay, then who was it? Not like you’ve had any serious girlfriends.”

“You know I’m gay, right?” 

She laughs. “Yeah, everyone knows since you came out at your eighteenth birthday party. So it’s a guy?”

“Yeah, it’s a guy.” Mickey smiles in spite of himself. “And I love him. I want to stay married to him forever.”

Her mouth drops open. “Oh my God, Mickey.” She throws an arm around his shoulders. “He must be awesome. Or he’d better be, because if he broke your heart, I’ll kill him.”

“Nah, he didn’t do anything. He’s a good guy. Best one I know, actually.”

“So how come you’ve never told us about him?” Mandy demands, going from sweet to annoyed in a nanosecond. “Fucker, you have a husband and you never even brought him over to meet us?”

Mickey runs a hand through his hand. This is going to get really complicated if he doesn’t come clean right this second. 

“Look, Mands, I gotta tell you something--”

Her phone buzzes from outside the room, and he follows her out to see her check the notification. 

“Mom’s going to be home soon. Want me to tell her you’re out early?”

He should tell the truth now, but the idea of seeing his mom again makes him pause. There’s no telling what kind of parent she is--or was--in this world, but it’s his fucking mom. As far as he can tell, Terry’s not in the picture anymore, so what’s the harm in spending a few hours with his mother? 

Or, really, Other Mickey’s mother. Christ, this is sick. He’s basically mooching off some bastard’s life while the guy rots in prison. 

“I won’t if you don’t want me to,” Mandy offers, mistaking his hesitation for something else. “Good thing you got a hotel room, that was smart. I don’t know if she’s ready to let you stay here again.”

“Yeah, no, don’t tell her,” Mickey says, letting reality sink back in. “I’ll, uh, I’ll just head back. Thanks for letting me sleep here.”

“No problem. You’re welcome to sneak back anytime.” She puts the phone down and faces him directly, arms crossed. 

“But I’m serious, you need to let us meet this mystery guy.”

“I literally can’t do that,” Mickey says bluntly. “You’d freak.”

“Why would I freak?”

Mickey can’t take any more of the third degree. He shouldn’t have told her anything in the first place. 

“Just don’t tell Mom I was here,” he says, ducking back into “his” room to grab some of “his” stuff. He doesn’t find any guns, which is baffling, but he does grab a couple knives cause you never know. He shoves the clothes and weapons into an old backpack and heads back out into the living room. 

“Mickey, wait. You need cash.” 

He turns back to her. “Nah, that’s okay, I’ve got--”

“All you had on you was some counterfeit crap,” Mandy says. “Whoever made that shit has no idea what money looks like. Here.” She takes a few bills out of her purse and hands them to him. He blinks when he sees the different pictures and designs. He would really have been SOL if he’d tried to use his Earth One cash. 

“Thanks,” he says sincerely. 

“Yeah, just don’t spend it all on drugs.”

“I’m clean,” he replies, and judging from the look on her face, this is something she’s heard a lot. 

So Other Mickey’s an addict. That’s the least surprising thing he’s heard all day.

***  
Mickey uses half the money Mandy gave him to buy some food for his hotel mini-fridge, and pick up more prenatal vitamins (once he’s sure they contain the same ingredients as his other ones.) It occurs to him that he and Ian are going to have to do a lot of technical shit once they get settled in--get bank accounts, jobs, a more permanent home than this hotel. All of it’s enough to make his head spin, although that could be his body’s way of telling him to drink more water. He hasn’t hydrated very well today, something else Ian would bitch at him about.

God, he misses him.

Only twelve more hours, he tells himself as he eats dinner and drinks a bottle of seltzer in the fridge, which is pretty good. Twelve more hours and he’ll be right there to greet Ian as he comes through that godawful portal, even if he ends up puking on his shoes. 

He’s almost asleep when there’s a pounding on his door like someone’s trying to knock it down. He grabs the knife he hid under his pillow (old habits) and gets out of bed, standing well back from the door.

“Who is it?” he barks. 

“Open this fucking door, you little shit!” 

Mickey almost drops the knife on his own foot. 

That’s his mother’s voice. 

***  
As soon as he’s cracked the door open an inch, Malina Milkovich barges into the room, her fury making her seem far taller than her five-foot-two stature. Her dark eyes bore into his and he feels like a three-year-old who just got caught playing with a broken beer bottle. 

“I get a call this afternoon from the county prison,” she says, with no prelude whatsoever. “They ask me to accept the charges, I say sure, and I have a nice, heartwarming chat with my youngest kid, in which he tells me he needs money and I say fuck off, your commissary’s already full, and I hang up. Then I stop by the grocery store to pick up dinner, and who should I run into but Ian Fucking Gallagher, who says he met you in our front yard just a few hours ago. Well, that can’t be right, I think, because Mickey may know how to land himself a ten-year sentence for grand theft auto, but teleportation? Not really in his league!”

“I--” Mickey can’t even begin to think of what to say, and she’s backing him up against the wall. “Look, I can--”

“Oh, you can explain?” Malina barks. “Is that what you’re going to say? How the FUCK can you explain why you’re here in town impersonating my son and stealing his shit right out of our own house?”

“I’m Mickey!” Mickey shouts over her. “I mean, I’m not your son, but...Christ.” He rubs a hand over his eyes. “Look, you can have all of my--his--stuff back if you want it. But just let me explain, okay? It’ll take two minutes.”

Malina gives him a long and searching look, then pulls up a chair and sits down, eyes on him the entire time. “Clock starts now. Talk.”

He gives the most succinct recap he can with that time crunch, and by the time she snaps “Stop” he’s not sure she even believes a word. She’s still staring at him, and she tilts her head slightly after a few excruciating minutes.

“You look like my Mickey,” she says. “But cleaner, like he finally learned how to use soap.”

Mickey tries not to smile.

“So you’re from another Earth, you’re shacking up here until your husband arrives, and then you two are gonna find another place to live until you get to go home, right?”

“Pretty much.” Mickey’s more exhausted by the past five minutes that by anything else that’s happened all day. He wants to crawl into bed and sleep, but Malina’s not done with her question-and-answer session.

“In other words, you’re here all alone.”

He’s kind of wishing he had that knife still in his hand. “Yeah. But once Ian--my Ian--gets here--”

“Leave him a note.”

“What?”

Malina stands up decisively. “Leave him a note with my address on it, tell him to meet you there. You’re staying with us till he gets his ass over here.”

Mickey’s jaw drops. “Mom--I mean--” He has no idea what else to call her. “You don’t owe me anything. I’m not even your kid.”

“A Milkovich by any other name,” she says, and that sounds familiar but he doesn’t know why. “Now get your--or should I say, my kid’s--shit and let’s go.”

“Uh, there’s one more thing,” he says after scribbling a note that he’ll give to the front desk on his way out. “I’m...I’m pregnant.”

She stares at him. 

“Congratu-fucking-lations,” she says after a beat. “Let’s go.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has been a fun month of doing nothing and seeing very few people.
> 
> Oh, wait...it's only been a week. *Sigh*
> 
> But while we're trying not to go out of our minds, let's keep writing some good gay shit! 
> 
> I based 95% of Malina's character off of Susie Myerson on "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel," because I get a very strong Milkovich vibe off of her. Not a crossover, though.
> 
> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a slight hiccup in Ian and Mickey's reunion plans.

“I am such a dipshit!” Mandy exclaims when she sees Mickey again. “That money, the license, the fact that you’re fucking married--of course you’re not my dumbass loser brother.” 

“Nice to see you again, too,” Mickey snarks, and heads into the room that he left just a few hours ago. 

By the time he wakes up, it’s almost nine in the morning and he can smell breakfast. That’s new--breakfast was always more of a scavenger hunt unless Terry had Mandy make it for them. 

He walks out into the kitchen to see Malina pouring herself coffee, and Mandy shoves a plate of toast and eggs at Mickey.

“Mom says you’re knocked up,” is how she says good morning to him. “So you get the stuff that’s not burnt.”

“Thanks,” he says, sitting down. He eats quickly, because the next group is coming through the portal around ten, and he wants to be there at the site waiting for Ian. 

“Hey, take a shower before you go,” Malina says as he stands up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “And put that plate in the sink!”

He hides a smirk. Of course she wouldn’t give him special treatment, even if he’s technically a guest. It’s bizarrely comforting to be around her again. She never, ever took shit from anyone and he used to feel safer around her than any other person in his life, until she left.

He jumps in the shower ahead of Mandy, who yells “You better not use my shampoo!” after him. Once he’s sufficiently clean and odor-free, he starts rummaging through the clothes he brought with him. He’s not going to take anything from Other Mickey’s closet--the guy’s got band T-shirts, for fuck’s sake.

But maybe he’ll grab a pair of jeans. The ones he’s been wearing have been getting tight, and today is the day when he officially can’t zip them all the way up. 

“Bet you’re gonna be as tall as Ian,” he mutters, brushing a hand over his stomach. “Really looking forward to pushing you out, kid.”

After trying on the first pair of Other Mickey’s pants that he finds (he only has to leave the top button undone on these,) he heads for the front door. 

“Hey!”

He stops. “What?”

Malina’s shrugging on her jacket. “I’m coming with you. I wanna meet this husband of yours.”

“Mom--I mean, Malina, he’s not really your son-in-law.”

“The fuck do I care? You gotta have better taste in men than my kid. You wouldn’t believe the assholes he’s brought home.”

“She just wants to keep an eye on you,” Mandy laughs. 

Malina aims a playful swat at Mandy. “You off with Soldier Boy again today?”

Mandy’s smile falters. “He’s shipping out in two weeks, Mom. We want to spend as much time together as we can.” She slips out the door ahead of them. Mickey watches her drive away as he and Malina head down the porch steps.

“How long has she been dating him?” he asks, still feeling weird at the idea of any version of Ian seriously dating his sister. 

“About three years,” Malina says casually. “He’s a good kid. Better than his mom, anyway. She dumped him with his dad when he was a baby and thinks checking back in every couple of years when she’s back on her meds constitutes good parenting.” 

Monica sounds about the same, anyway.

“And he treats her okay?”

Malina smiles. “Like a fucking princess. It’s gonna be tough for her when he’s overseas.”

It sounds like in this universe, Ian’s made it into the Army. Probably means he never got bipolar disorder. Mickey tries not to think too hard about that.

They make it to the site without any trouble, and Mickey’s feeling sick from nerves while he waits for the next group arrival.

“This guy looks just like Mandy’s Ian?” Malina asks, and Mickey nods.

“Funny how you both fell for the same one,” she says with a laugh, and he might find it a little funny too if he wasn’t fucking dying to see his husband again. 

***

“What do you mean there are no incoming groups?”

The guy behind the desk shrinks back from Mickey. “Sir, please, it’s beyond my control. All we know is that a message came through this morning to report a new outbreak among the group that was due to arrive today, so there are currently none scheduled to arrive this week. It’s a safety precaution, I’m sure you--”

“Who’s sick?” Mickey demands, and the guy shrinks even further.

“We weren’t given that information, only that they’ve been quarantined and not allowed to travel until they recover.”

Mickey feels like he can’t get a full breath. Ian could be one of those sick people. Ian could be in fucking quarantine back home right now. Ian could--

“Hey. Hey!” 

He can dimly hear his mom, but it sounds like she’s underwater. Or maybe he is. Why is everything so blurry all of a sudden? 

“Jesus fuck, kid! You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He blinks. For the second time in two days, he’s lying flat on his back and staring up at a familiar face. 

“What the fuck happened?” he groans, sitting up slowly. Malina presses a cup of water into his hand.

“Drink that. You fainted. I had to convince them you weren’t sick, but they want you to take it easy here until you feel better, ‘for safety reasons.’”

Mickey gradually registers that he’s in some kind of medical tent like the one he was examined in just yesterday. He’s on a cot, and Malina’s sitting across from him on another one. 

“Ian might be sick,” he says out loud, stomach churning. “He could be the reason no one’s comin’ through that fucking portal. And I can’t go back--”

“Hey.” Her voice is softer than he’s ever heard it, and she puts a hand on his shoulder. “Stop that. You’re gonna go crazy thinkin’ that way. You don’t know your husband’s not in perfect health and pissed as hell that he’s not with you right now.”

He smiles faintly. “Yeah, he probably is.”

She smiles at him. “You remind me of my Mickey right now. He used to get a lot of fevers when he was a kid. I kinda liked it when he was home sick--wasn’t getting into trouble, stayed quiet for a change. I would even read to him.Only he didn’t like that, cause he wasn’t good at reading.”

Mickey snorts. “Me neither. My dad said I was just stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, and neither is my son,” Malina says vehemently. “He’s got a learning disorder. God knows I tried to get him help--tutors, after-school programs--but he hated all of it. Eventually I figured, okay, he’s not book-smart. There are other kinds of smart, we’ll see what he ends up being.”

She sighs, shaking her head. “Turns out, he’s smart as long as it involves something he shouldn’t be doing. I tried getting him jobs, but he always finds a way to fuck it up somehow. So I stopped trying. I don’t know what I’m going to do when he gets out this time.”

Mickey can’t help thinking of what a difference there was between prison life without Ian and prison life with him, and tears sting his eyes.

“I need to see Ian,” he mutters, turning his head away. His mom used to hate to see her kids cry. “I have to. I can’t...I can’t do this alone.” 

“Let’s go home,” Malina says after a few minutes. “We’ll check back in later. Maybe things’ll change and he’ll be here sooner than you think.”

***  
Mickey calls the people supervising the portal every hour, all day. By dinnertime, they’ve stopped answering, which feels pretty personal. 

Well, ex-fucking-cuse him for wanting to know whether he’ll ever see his husband again. 

He’s actually grateful for the distraction of dinner, and in spite of the circumstances it's nice to have a meal with his not-sister. Turns out, they’re still able to banter back and forth with each other. 

“Hey, uh,” he hedges when there’s a lapse in the conversation. “What happened to your dad?”

Mandy’s smile disappears. “He’s dead.”

“How?”

“Who cares?”

Okay then. Terry’s dead, nobody seems to miss him, case closed. They’re clearly better off without him around. 

“Will it be weird for you if Ian sleeps over tonight?” Mandy asks tentatively.

“He’s your boyfriend,” Mickey says with a shrug. “Do what you want, just keep it down.”

Mandy scoffs. “We don’t do that. Ian’s ace.”

“Ace at what?”

“Asexual. He doesn’t like sex.”

Mickey almost spits out the soda he’s been drinking. “What the fu--Ian loves sex!” He knows she’s talking about her version of Ian, but goddamn, Mickey can’t imagine a world where Ian Gallagher doesn’t enjoy sex.

The closest they ever came to that reality was when he was on his meds the first time, and occasionally when he has to adjust them, but they have ways of dealing with that. Whatever happens, Ian’s sex drive always bounces back.

“You sure he’s not gay?” Mickey says without thinking. “I mean, you guys have been together three years and he doesn’t wanna bone?” 

“Fuck you!” Mandy snaps. “You sound just like my brother! Do they not have ace people in your world?”

Mickey shrugs uncomfortably. “I dunno, I guess. I always thought they were just fucked up.”

“What’s fucked up is thinking that anyone who doesn’t want to have sex is fucked up,” Mandy counters. “It’s just like you being gay--you don’t want to fuck girls, Ian doesn’t want to fuck at all. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with either of you.”

“Okay!” Mickey holds up his hands in surrender. “Jesus, sorry. If he’s not gettin’ you pregnant, I guess that’s a good thing.”

Mandy leaves the table with a growl of irritation, dumping her plate in the sink.

***

Mickey stays in his room while Other Ian’s over, because he can’t handle seeing his husband’s doppelganger right now. He wants the real Ian around. He hasn’t been this homesick for him since he was in prison all those years ago. 

Ian’s his home. He always has been. Mickey could be settling in happily on fucking Mars if Ian was there with him. 

He tries to turn in early, but his bladder’s protesting all the coffee he was stress-drinking earlier, so he keeps getting up to use the bathroom. He keeps feeling weird twinges, not cramps but something else, low in his stomach. He tries to ignore them--growing a kid makes him feel all kinds of weird shit--but the strongest twinge happens when he tries to turn onto his side to get comfortable.

“Shit!” He curls up instinctively. “Knock it off, kid.” It’s nothing. It has to be nothing. He’s not---there’s no way he could be---

He flings the covers back and heads back into the bathroom to check himself. There’s no blood, thank God, but the weird-ass muscle cramps won’t go away. What the fuck?

“Mickey?” Mandy’s just poked her head into his room. “You okay?”

“Fine!” he snaps, coming out of the bathroom. He’s got a hand over his stomach and that gets her attention. 

“Are you sure?”

"Muscle cramp or something,” Mickey mutters, trying not to sound as freaked as he really is. “I’m fine.”

“Want me to get Ian? He’s a nurse, he could take a look.”

No, I don’t want your freaky-ass “asexual” clone of my fucking HUSBAND to take a look, Mickey’s about to say, but he knows that if his Ian were here, he’d want Mickey to get a medical opinion right the fuck now. Because this could be serious. 

“Yeah, okay,” Mickey grumbles, lying back down on top of his covers. “But I’m not gettin’ naked.”

“Nobody asked you to,” Mandy smirks. 

***  
He keeps his eyes firmly closed when Other Ian prods at his stomach, asking questions about medical history and shit like that. Mickey answers as best he can, pretty sure that his sanity’s already hanging on by a thread. This is all so fucking weird.

“Okay, well, I think it’s just ligament pain,” Other Ian says finally. “Pretty common in the first trimester.”

“Liga-what?” Mickey doesn’t care if he sounds stupid. Other Ian gently pokes the side of his stomach.

“Ligament. They’re soft, stretchy muscles that supports your organs, and they can twinge a little as the uterus grows. Nothing to worry about.”

Mickey grunts. “Great. Thanks.”

“No problem. You sure you’re okay?”

Mickey isn't sure about anything besides how badly he wants to go to sleep and wake up to find his Ian right beside him, and the past forty-eight hours to have just been a horrible dream.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “But I thought you were a soldier. You a nurse, too?”

Other Ian smiles. “Yeah. I didn’t really want to go into active duty, so I figured I’d enroll in medical training instead.”

Mickey can’t help feeling a little impressed. Seems like no matter what world he’s in, Ian’s always trying to help people.

“That’s cool,” Mickey admits. “You’re, uh, you’re good at it. My Ian’s an EMT. He loves that shit.”

Other Ian leans against the dresser, arms crossed just like Mickey’s Ian. “He’s stuck in your world, right? Mandy--”

“Told you, yeah, of course she did.” Mickey rolls his eyes. 

“Is he sick? Like, in quarantine?”

Mickey swallows, hard. “I don’t know, they wouldn’t tell me.”

Other Ian’s quiet for a second. “I could probably ask my brother Lip to check. He volunteers with the people who work in inter-dimensional travel, he could find out for you.”

Mickey stares at him. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah, of course. I mean, you’re married to a Gallagher, even if it’s not someone in my family.” He hesitates. “But, um, if it turns out he is in quarantine...what are you planning to do?”

A million thoughts run through Mickey’s mind, most of them completely unhelpful, and he voices the only one that he trusts himself to say out loud.

“Wait.”

**TBC**


	4. Part 4

In the morning, he feels like something’s different. Not physically, even though the ligament pain isn’t bothering him anymore. But he can think about more than just how much he misses Ian and wants him here. He’s going to lose his mind if all he does for the next week or whatever is just sit around worrying. He needs to plan for the future--one with Ian in it. 

First things first, he talks to Other Lip Gallagher (who is still a genius, still an asshole, and married to Karen Jackson with a kid on the way.) Other Lip promises to find out as much as he can, and Mickey likes watching him and Other Ian interact. They may have been raised by different parents, but their relationship is basically the same. He can tell this Lip would walk through fire for this Ian any day, just like back home. 

Nice to see some things don’t change.

It’s also reassuring how different Other Ian is. Maybe not everyone would notice the stuff that Mickey does, but it’s there. This Ian’s got a level of self-assurance that Mickey’s Ian doesn’t have--or hasn’t had ever since his diagnosis. This Ian laughs a little more easily and has never smoked in his life (Mickey joshes him a little over that, calling him a “freaking Boy Scout” before he can stop himself.) They get along okay, but they don’t have the same chemistry. Mickey can usually go a few hours, or maybe an entire day if he’s busy, without making some kind of allusion to wanting to bone, and Ian usually responds in kind, and then it’s just a matter of time before they’re lubing up and going at it.

He doesn’t get that vibe from this guy. He smells different, which is the biggest turn-off for Mickey. Ian smells….like Ian. This Ian smells like...someone else.

It’s complicated. 

Malina offers him a job at the Alibi, but he’s a little tired of walking into places that look just like the ones back home, so he asks around and gets a job at an auto-repair shop where they don’t know Mickey Milkovich. The owner, Salvadore, doesn’t ask too many questions and Mickey gives him an alias--Michael Gallagher. 

Salvadore can pay him more than he was making before, and when Mickey mentions the kid, all the guy does is point out the chemicals he should avoid and tell him to ask for help if there’s heavy lifting involved.

“What’s the ETA?” he asks, glancing at Mickey’s stomach. 

“Huh? Oh, uh...December tenth. Probably.” Milkovich kids are always either late or early. 

“Okay. Let me know when you want to sign up for paternity leave.”

“That’s a thing?”

Salvadore looks at him like he’s nuts. “ ‘Course it’s a thing. You get eighteen weeks off, paid.”

Mickey thinks he could get used to this place.

***

It’s a relief to have some distractions, but once he’s set up a joint account at the bank (it’s on hold until Ian’s around to sign the paperwork) and done some apartment-hunting (rents are way lower than back home, and he finds a couple of places that are decent) he gets back to the Alternate Milkovich house tired and increasingly homesick for Ian.

He just wants to know if he’s okay. He doesn’t care if it takes weeks or fucking months for him to get here, so long as he’s okay when he does.

Lip calls him on the landline (he doesn’t have a working cell phone yet) to report that he snuck a look at the most recent reports from Earth One, and Ian Gallagher wasn’t listed as one of the quarantined.

Mickey’s legs almost buckle from relief. “Thank fuck,” he breathes, sagging against the wall. “You’re sure he wasn’t on the list?”

“I’m sure,” Lip reiterates. “And the next group is due to come through next week, barring any more complications. So he’ll be here soon.”

Mickey wants to fucking bawl his eyes out just to release the tension he’s been carrying around since he got here. He hangs up the phone and shuts himself in his--Other Mickey’s--room before he can give into the urge.

Ian’s okay. He’s healthy, and he’s coming here, and everything’s gonna be okay. 

Finally. 

***

A week later, Mickey feels like he’s pretty much got this “living in an alternate universe” thing down. 

He’s started his new job and received his first paycheck, which is great. He’s gotten to know a few of his co-workers a little better, too. There are a lot more women than he’s used to seeing in this kind of environment, but that’s just what things are like here. He tries not to act surprised at the lack of gender gap.

Mandy and Other Ian include him a little more in their outings, which helps him get to know the area and feel more comfortable hanging around Other Ian. But as soon as one of them starts openly flirting with the other, Mickey leaves. Watching them act like that is never not going to be weird.

Salvadore helps him sign up for insurance, which is wild because the plan pays for fucking everything. Then Mickey sets up an appointment with a doctor Malina recommends. Honestly, he’s so laser-focused on seeing Ian again that everything else feels unimportant. 

Well, except one thing. Which is making him have to buy new shirts and pants now, cause nothing in Other Mickey’s closet really fits and he’s not going to see Ian for the first time in two weeks without pants on--no matter how tempting that might be.

“Your dad’s coming home soon,” he tells the baby every night, which would make him feel like kicking his own ass if it wasn’t genuinely comforting to say out loud, even if the kid can’t hear his voice yet. 

“We’re gonna have a new place to live, and you’re probably going to be here before we get to go home, but that’s okay. Cause you’ll have a...kind-of grandma and aunt who are gonna be big fans of you. You might even meet your kinda-aunts and uncles.” Mickey makes a face at the ceiling. “Although, they won’t be the same as the ones back home...fuck, this is confusing. Just trust me, you’ve got plenty of family.”

***

Mickey can barely sleep the night before the next group arrives, and he’s up, dressed and on his second cup of coffee by five, with four hours to spare. 

Malina doesn’t say anything about him being awake before her or Mandy, and they make an unnecessarily large breakfast just to pass the time. Mickey eats as much as he can with his stomach in knots, and Mandy keeps up a steady stream-of-consciousness chatter in what’s probably an effort to distract him. 

All attempts to pass the time aside, Mickey’s still at the portal site half an hour early. Mandy’s tagged along, for reasons he can’t even begin to understand.

“I just want to see you two together,” she says when he gives her a look. “You obviously care as much about your Ian as I do about mine.” She laughs. “God, that sounds weird.”

He wants to laugh, too, but he’s too fucking nervous. He keeps wondering if Ian’s going to be there or if he’ll get left behind like last time. What if something else goes wrong, or has already gone wrong and Ian’s not coming after all? Fuck, what if--

“Hey, sit down, you look like you’re gonna pass out. Again.”

He sits down, right on the grass, like the first day he got here. At Mandy’s urging, he tries to take deep, calming breaths. 

“Want me to get you some water?” she asks, glancing at the medical tent behind them. He nods, and she leaves. He rests his head on his knees, not even sure what to feel right now. Happy that Ian’s going to be here soon, terrified that he won’t be, excited to show him around, worried that it’ll all be too much for him--

He hears someone sit down next to him.

“Did you get--” Mickey starts, lifting his head, but it’s not Mandy. 

It’s Ian.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REUNION FTW! More fluffiness to come in Part Five (still writing this story, so no spoilers as to how it's going to end because I still don't know!) 
> 
> Now I'm going outside because if I don't do that enough, I start to get stressed.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Part 5

Mickey only needs to look at him for a second before he’s sure this is his Ian.

He throws himself onto him, and they end up rolling around on the grass, wrapping themselves around each other, kissing and asking “Are you okay?” over and over, without actually getting an answer. 

“I’m fine! I’m okay,” Mickey says at last, because Ian sounds so worried. “Really, I’m good. What about you, though?”

“I’m okay,” Ian says, sitting up. His arms stay firmly wrapped around Mickey’s shoulders and waist, which suits Mickey fine. “I got tested so many times to make sure I wasn’t sick, I never want to see a swab again.”

Mickey lets his entire body melt against Ian’s, pressing his forehead against his. God, it feels good. 

“I was so fucking scared,” he breathes. “When I heard you weren’t comin’ last week--”

Ian tightens his arms around him so hard that Mickey winces. “Ian!”

“Sorry.” He relaxes his grip. “And I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

“I didn’t, really,” Mickey admits. “I had my--well, she’s not my mom, but I had her to help me out. You have to meet her, she’s great.”

“Your mom is here?” Ian looks confused. “Oh, wait...your other mom. Not your mom.”

“Yeah, that makes perfect sense,” Mickey quips. Ian laughs, and Mickey kisses him again just because he can. 

“Hey,” Ian says seriously, sitting up further and making Mickey slide over to sit next to him. “How’s the baby?” 

Mickey grins. “Fine, look.” He lifts up his shirt, and any concern he had that the bump’s too small to see vanishes when Ian’s eyes tear up. He touches it like he’s afraid it’s going to disappear. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. “Mick, you’re amazing.”

Mickey laughs. “I can’t take all the credit. But I got a job, and I’m looking for a place for us--”

Ian moves his other hand up to Mickey’s jaw and kisses him slowly. 

“You’re fucking incredible,” he says when they pull apart. “I mean it. I can’t believe you did all this without me.”

“It was either go out of my fucking mind worrying if I’d ever see your ass again, or get shit done and hope I did.” He curls a hand around Ian’s neck. “You woulda done the same.”

They kiss again, and Mickey’s so happy and relieved that he could do this all day, except Mandy comes back to check on them (turns out, she found Ian in the medical tent and told him where Mickey was.) Plus, Ian’s still jet-lagged from the trip, and Mickey decides that they should spend some time indoors, in bed, catching up.

“Hope you can handle a little deja vu,” he jokes as he leads Ian through the Other Milkoviches’ front door. 

***

They spend most of the day in his room, in full vacation mode. Mickey knows they’re not actually on vacation, but it’s the most relaxed he’s been in two weeks and he’s going to enjoy it before reality sets back in.

“So, you never started crushing on Other Me?” Ian teases him at one point, and Mickey smiles sleepily. 

“Nah. He’s not you, man. He doesn’t even smell like you.”

“You smelled him?”

Mickey turns around to face Ian. “C’mon, you know what I mean. He looks like you, and that’s it.”

Ian trails his fingers down Mickey’s arm. “And at no point did you think about all of us in bed together?”

Mickey licks his lips, and Ian laughs. “I knew it!” 

“I’m only fucking human,” Mickey protests, annoyed. “It’s a compliment!”

“Sure it is,” Ian smirks. “So maybe I should invite Other Mickey to join us sometime?”

Mickey grabs his wrists and pins him to the bed. 

“Stay the fuck away from him,” he growls, only half-teasing because the idea of Ian doing anything with his doppelganger makes him irrationally, furiously jealous. 

Ian seems to pick up on this, and twists one of his hands out of Mickey’s grasp to curl around his nape. 

“I was kidding, Mick,” he says softly.

Feeling embarrassed, Mickey relaxes and settles down next to him, one arm draped over his torso. Ian runs his hand through Mickey’s hair in a way that makes Mickey feel like he’s about to fall asleep, when there’s a knock on the door.

“Go the fuck away!” Mickey yells entirely out of habit, and Ian snorts out a laugh.

“It’s me,” Mandy’s voice replies. “Mom wants to know what you guys want for supper. And she wants to meet Ian.”

“Anything’s fine,” Ian says on their behalf. “Looking forward to it.”

“Okay.” 

Once Mickey’s sure she’s gone, he looks back at Ian.

“Are you sure you’re okay, really?” he asks. “Did you need to adjust your meds, or--”

“Yeah, a little,” Ian sighs. “It wasn’t easy. I kept wishing we’d both just waited an extra day, but then I came back the next day and they weren’t letting anyone through because more people were sick. So I had to spend the rest of the week with Lip and Tammi, and they’re not easy to live with under the best circumstances. I ended up taking Freddy on my runs just so we didn’t have to hear them fighting all the time.”

Mickey nods. “That must’ve been rough.”

Ian presses himself closer to Mickey’s side. “It was. I kept thinking about our kid and whether or not you were okay, and it wasn’t until I was awake at three in the morning for the third night in a row, doing my brother’s laundry, that I realized I needed help.”

“Gotta do what you gotta do.” That’s Mickey’s general philosophy when it comes to Ian managing his bipolar. 

“And I did. But without Lip and Fred, I think I would’ve snapped. They kept me from spending all that time worrying about you.”

“They gonna be okay?”

Ian nods. “Yeah, they’re in a Safe Zone, they don’t need to dimension-jump like we did.” Mickey sees fear flicker across his face. 

“Mick, it’s not getting any better over there. Nobody could tell me definitively when we’ll be able to come back, and part of me didn’t want to leave because I don’t know when I’ll see my family again.”

“I get that,” Mickey says, and he means it, because in the past three years he’s really started to feel like the Gallaghers are his family, too. He moves his hand to rest on Ian’s chest. “We’ll see them again, Ian. That shit can’t last forever, right?”

Ian puts his hand over Mickey’s and squeezes. 

“No. No, it can’t.”

***  
As much as Mickey enjoys seeing Ian interact with Malina--a privilege he definitely never had back in their world--during dinner, he already knows that they should probably avoid imposing any further and check back into the hotel where he was originally staying. One thing’s for sure, it definitely has thicker walls and more privacy. 

“I wish I had some baby stuff to give you,” Malina says at one point. “But I threw it all out after Mandy turned three. Decided I was done having kids, and I didn’t want anything makin’ me broody again.”

Ian chuckles and squeezes Mickey’s leg. “I’m pretty sure I’ll get broody again after we have our kid.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Yeah, just wait until we haven’t slept in weeks and the kid’s shitting all over everything.” 

“Sometimes they never grow out of that stage,” Malina says dryly, which gets a laugh from both of them. It also reminds Mickey of something he’s been going back and forth about asking her, because after all, she’s not his mother. She’s just the version of Malina Milkovich who stuck around.

“Hey,” he says after a minute. “I just wanted to ask...why’d you stay? After Terry died, I mean? Cause my mom skipped out on us when I was a kid, and I don’t fucking blame her, but…” He trails off, and he can see that she understands what he’s asking.

“I tried to leave,” she says slowly. “Every time I tried to save a little money or find someone to give me a ride out of town, Terry would find out and stop me. Sometimes with a couple broken bones, sometimes by knocking me up.” 

Ian flinches, and Mickey clears his throat roughly.

“But after Mandy, I decided enough was enough,” Malina goes on. “My doctor even said I shouldn’t have any more kids. So I made some calls to people I never want to speak to again, and a week after I brought Mandy home, Terry left to do a deal one day and never came back. They found his body in the river, said he must’ve been walking home high and fallen in. He never was a good swimmer.” 

Ian and Mickey share a look. 

“After that, I got to experience the joys of single parenthood and the mixed results that come with it,” she says with a faint smile. “I know my Mickey could’ve turned out better, but they all would’ve been worse off with Terry around.”

“No shit,” Mickey mutters. He touches her hand, just for a second. 

“You’re a good mom.”

She smiles wider. 

***

The next few months are weird, to say the least.

Their apartment is nice, but they have to pick out new furniture, which makes this all seem so permanent that Mickey has a panic attack and Ian makes him lie down on a sofa they’ve been looking at. Just when he’s starting to calm down, he feels the baby kick.

“Fuck,” he breathes, grabbing Ian’s hand and pressing it to his bump. “I think he likes this sofa.”

Ian smiles, kisses him, and they take the sofa home and spend the evening on it, arguing over baby names. 

Their jobs pay well and have great benefits, better than they ever got back home, and the steadiness of routine does wonders to help them “assimilate,” which is a word Ian’s new therapist loves to throw around.

Sometimes Mickey honest-to-God forgets that they’re not back home, but then he goes to call his sister or there’s some random holiday, and he remembers. He and Ian check in every week to see if there’s news, but so far no one who’s made the trip has been cleared to go home. They’re all just waiting, together.

***

Finally, though, someone is done waiting. 

December seventh, three-oh-two AM, is when their intrepid little baby dimension-jumper is born. Mickey can’t imagine being any happier to see and hold him, even if they were back home.

“He’s fucking perfect,” he murmurs, staring at the baby who is currently snuggled between his dads on the bed. “I kept thinking maybe he’d have a weird birthmark or be missing a toe, but…” He runs a gentle thumb over one of the baby’s tiny hands. “There’s nothing.”

Ian smiles, bending his head down to kiss their son on his fuzzy red head. He inhales deeply through his nose while he’s doing it.

“Ian?”

“Mm?”

“There a reason you keep huffing him like that?”

Ian laughs. “I can’t help it. He smells so sweet.”

“Wish I did,” Mickey sighs. “Feels like I sweated half the baby weight off just getting him out.”

“I can watch him if you want to take a shower,” Ian offers, but Mickey winces at the thought of moving more than a few inches. 

“It can wait. I like being here with you.”

Ian leans over the baby and kisses Mickey’s forehead, then slips off the bed and heads for the bathroom. Mickey shrugs, figuring he’s taking a leak, and curls an arm around their kid.

“You still need a name,” he says drowsily. “Blink if you like Alex.”

The baby yawns instead, and Mickey is temporarily distracted by how much he loves him just for doing that. 

“Okay, not Alex,” Mickey says, grinning. “How ‘bout Taylor?”

“I thought you didn’t like that one,” Ian says, emerging from the bathroom with two towels over one arm and a damp washcloth in the other. 

“Eh, it’s growing on me,” Mickey says, glancing at the towels. “Those for him?”

“No, for you. Sponge bath. This way you can clean up a little without having to get out of bed.” 

Ian runs the pleasantly warm washcloth over his arm, and it feels nice. It’s even nicer when Ian puts their kid in his bassinet so he can climb onto the bed and have full access to Mickey, who rolls onto his side to let him get at all the nooks and crannies.

“You’re good at this,” he murmurs as Ian sweeps the cloth gently down his back. 

“You do this for me when I can’t get out of bed,” Ian replies. “Figured it was a good time to return the favor.”

Mickey glances over his shoulder. “You take your meds yet?”

“Yes, just now in the bathroom. I’m okay, Mick.”

“Just sayin’, it was pretty intense,” Mickey relates, like Ian wasn’t there for every second of their kid’s arrival. “I wouldn’t blame you if it threw you off.”

Ian massages Mickey’s feet with the washcloth. “Honestly, I’m so happy it scares me. Know what I mean?”

Mickey does, and he grabs the cloth away from Ian as soon as it’s within his reach. He tosses it onto the table by the bed and tugs Ian’s arm so that it’s wrapped around his waist. Ian takes the hint and lies down next to him, pressing himself against his back.

“Hard to believe he was in here just yesterday,” Ian comments, resting his hand on Mickey’s belly. Mickey smiles.

“Is it weird that I kinda miss him?”

He feels Ian smile against his neck. “I don’t think so.”

Mickey sinks deeper into the pillow and stares at the baby, who’s turned his head to look in Mickey’s general direction. He knows that newborns can’t really see that far, but it still feels like his kid knows where he is.

“Nathan,” he says after a minute. “I want to call him Nathan.”

Ian hums. “Short for Nathaniel?”

Mickey scoffs. “That sounds like some trust-fund douchebag. Just Nathan.”

“Okay, and what about a middle name?”

Mickey’s falling asleep, but he knows this matters. “You pick.”

Whatever name Ian chooses, Mickey doesn’t hear it, because he’s already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurrah and huzzah! 
> 
> Still not done writing this story, but I have a good idea for how I want it to end. Maybe doppelgangers will finally meet face-to-face! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, hope you are all coping as well as possible right now, and stay tuned for more!


	6. Part 6

Five months later, Mickey decides to visit Other Mickey in prison. Mandy’s told them that he’s up for parole, and Mickey has a few things he wants to say to him.

He’s nervous but not completely freaked when he sees the guy. This Mickey must have been warned about him, because when he picks up the phone on the other side of the glass, all he says is “You don’t look that much like me.”

Mickey smiles. “You don’t look much like me, either.” It’s true. This Mickey’s hair is shaved on either side of his head (not a great look, but he’ll keep that thought to himself) face tattoos, and tat-free knuckles. Mickey’s almost forgotten what his hands looked like without them.

“So, why are you here?” Other Mickey says, giving him a deeply distrustful look. “Tryin’ to run a scam or something?”

Mickey can’t blame him for believing that. Hell, if he found out he had a fucking identical twin on the outside, that would be his first thought. 

“No, man. I wanted to...talk to you.” 

“About what?”

“About how you don’t have to be a fuck-up ex-con forever,” Mickey says, plowing ahead with the speech he prepared. “You can have it pretty good if you get a decent PO and--”

Other Mickey drops the phone to his shoulder and rolls his eyes. 

“Heard all this before,” he says, lifting the receiver up after a second. “From my mom, my sister, and even my fucking brothers. I’m not like them. I probably won’t even make parole, and why would I want to? Nothing for me on the outside.”

Jesus. This is like hearing himself at sixteen, when he really believed all that crap. And why not, that’s all he’d ever been told and learned to expect. Milkoviches were fuck-ups, end of story. The best you could hope for was making a little money dealing in between prison stints, and you’d probably end up dead before you were twenty-five, if you were lucky. 

Mickey decides to switch gears. He grabs his phone out of his pocket, finds a picture of Ian, and plasters the screen against the glass. 

“See that guy? That’s my husband.”

Other Mickey laughs. “That’s Mandy’s boyfriend.”

“Yeah, here he is. But in my world, we’re married.”

Other Mickey stares at him. “Seriously?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t like redheads.” 

His doppelganger shrugs. Mickey invented that shrug, so he knows what it means. 

“There’s more,” he says, scrolling through the pictures. Other Mickey scoffs.

“What, you gonna show me honeymoon pictures?”

“Better,” Mickey says, smiling as he holds up the one he was looking for. “This is Nathan, our kid. Had him five months ago.”

Now he’s got Other Mickey’s attention. Weird to see a slack-jawed look of surprise on a face so much like his own.

“Shit. Congrats,” Other Mickey says finally, leaning in to look at the picture. “He’s cute. Looks like you.”

“Yeah, I think he looks like Ian,” Mickey says proudly. “But he’s got the Milkovich eyes.” He could look at pictures of his kid all day, but he’s not done here. 

“Look, I’m not saying you need to get married and pop out a kid,” he says, leaning in to mirror Other Mickey’s posture. “Do whatever the fuck you want, it’s your life. But you could do better. I used to think I was gonna be Southside trash forever, cause that’s what all Milkoviches are where I’m from. I grew up with Terry and no Mom, and believe me, you got the better deal.”

Other Mickey’s looking at him like he’s not sure what to believe. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Anything!” Mickey says, louder than he means to. He lowers his voice. “Any-fucking-thing, man. Make parole, for one. Just keep your nose clean and maybe one day you can finally get out of here, meet your own Ian. Or someone like him.”

“That’s gonna solve all my problems, a fucking boyfriend?” Other Mickey snarks, and Mickey’s hackles rise despite his efforts to keep calm.

“You have no idea how great Ian is,” he snaps. “If you meet someone half as great as Ian Gallagher, just fucking marry him because you’ll never do better. Ever. And I know, because I already married the best one.”

He takes a breath and realizes how absolutely rom-com that sounded, and even his doppelganger is smirking at him. Christ. 

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says. “Not a lot of hot gingers in here, but hey, maybe if it’s meant to be and the fuckin’ stars align--”

“Shut up,” Mickey retorts. 

***  
When he comes home, he just wants to spend time with Ian and Nathan. He’s not sure if he got through to his other self about turning his life around, but at least Other Mickey seemed kind of impressed by what he’d done with his. 

Ian’s just leaving to go grocery shopping when Mickey steps in the door.

“I put Nathan down twenty minutes ago, but I think he’s still awake,” he sighs, brushing Mickey’s cheek with a kiss. “Talk later?”

Mickey nods, squeezing his arm. “Sure, talk later. And don’t forget yogurt.” It’s Nathan’s favorite food and Mickey’s getting kind of fond of it, too.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, walking quietly into Nathan’s room. The kid’s lying in his crib, wide-eyed like he’s just had a cup of coffee. “Still not sleepy? This is getting old, pal.”

Nathan’s a good kid, but he takes a while to fall asleep. Ian would tell him to leave him alone and let him drift off on his own, but Ian’s just left and Mickey’s had a long day, and it’s his fucking kid so he’ll cuddle him if he wants to.

Mickey picks him up and holds him against his chest. Nathan molds to him like he was waiting for this all along. Mickey buries his nose in his hair, and he can tell Ian must have given him a bath because he smells a lot fresher than he did this morning. 

“I can’t wait to go home,” he says out loud, and fuckin’ A does he mean it. No more alter-egos of himself or Ian. No more having to hear about his not-sister with his not-husband. No more weird-ass money, even though he’ll miss being paid as much or having the job benefits. 

He likes this world, but he misses the one where he’s supposed to be. He’s only gotten more homesick since having Nathan, because the baby reminds him of everything back home that’s still waiting for them...at least he hopes so.

“You’re gonna like our world,” he says out loud, even though Nathan’s almost asleep by now. “And everybody’s gonna like you. You’ll be Mr. Popular.”

Nathan sighs, and Mickey chuckles quietly. He also lets himself say the one thing he’s thought every day, but felt too self-conscious to say out loud. 

“Any world’s better with you in it,” he whispers in Nathan’s ear. “Trust me.”

Nathan’s eyes are closed, and Mickey thinks he could use a nap himself. He lies down on the bed and wakes up later to find Ian next to him.

“Hey,” he mumbles. “You just get back?”

“A while ago. I let you sleep while I made dinner.”

Mickey hums in appreciation. “Knew there was a reason I married you.”

Ian glances at their kid. “I’ll put him in his crib, you get some food.”

Mickey hands Nathan over--very carefully, because he screams like an angry cat when somebody wakes him up--and rolls off the bed. 

He’s helping himself to spaghetti when Ian joins him, and they sit down to eat.

“How was it, seeing your own double?”

Mickey relates the story, as unimpressive as it is. 

“He’ll probably still be fucked when he gets out, but I told him it didn’t have to be that way forever. I kinda hope he finds someone.”

Ian takes Mickey’s hand. “Never thought I’d see you being a hopeless romantic.”

“Fuck off!” Mickey jerks his hand away with a laugh. “I was just giving the guy something to look forward to. Not like he’s gonna do as well as we did.”

“You think so?”

Mickey scoffs. “We fucking killed it, Gallagher. We got together, broke up a bunch of times, dealt with your bipolar, made it through prison without killing each other, survived Terry, got hitched, fucking dimension-jumped to avoid a pandemic, and now we have a kid and we’re going back home alive.” In spite of the way that trips off his tongue, he can’t help choking up a little when the significance of their entire history so far hits him.

Ian puts his hand back over Mickey’s, and this time Mickey grips it. 

“I want to go home,” he mutters, swiping at his eyes. Ian sighs.

“Yeah. I do, too.”

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're not home-free yet, but it won't be much longer! Poor Mickey. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and to those who celebrate, Happy Easter and Happy Passover!


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian, Mickey and Nathan are going home.

Nathan’s a year old when they’re notified that it’s safe for them to go home. 

Honestly, Mickey feels a lot of things besides relief when he hears the news. He’s actually a little torn up about having to leave.

They’ve got friends here, people who treat them like family. The Gallaghers don’t have quite the reputation they do on their world (the Milkoviches have still made a name for themselves, but Mickey’s not ashamed of that.) Fiona even became a real estate mogul and brought in enough money to send three of the six Gallagher kids to college. 

Other Mickey’s getting out of prison soon, and nobody’s very optimistic that he won’t be going back in a matter of months, but Mickey’s hopeful. He likes the thought that he’s managed to turn shit around for himself in two universes.

Ian’s sad to say goodbye to his EMT job, but he and Mickey are low-key frantic to know what’s become of everyone back home. They can’t really relax until they’re through the portal and back where it all began. 

While they’re waiting in line to be given temperature checks (and Nathan has to get a mild sedative so the dimension-jump doesn’t freak him out,) Mandy and Other Ian show up to say goodbye.

“I talked to Mick,” Mandy relates. “He wanted me to tell you he wants to get a job at the Alibi when he gets out. I think that’s his way of saying thank-you for visiting him.” 

Ian and Other Ian give each other tentative smiles, and Mickey focuses on adjusting Nathan’s jacket and checking his shoelaces, because seeing two versions of his husband never stops being bizarre (and really, really hot.) 

“Take care of yourself,” his Ian says to both of them, and Mandy smiles brighter than Mickey’s ever seen his own sister smile.

“Okay, I’m just gonna tell you--we’re getting married,” she announces, and Other Ian looks at her the way Mickey sometimes catches Ian looking at him. 

She chose well.

Ian congratulates them and sounds genuinely happy, and Mickey shakes Other Ian’s hand briefly. 

“That’s great. Hurt her and I’ll come back and kick your ass,” he half-jokes, and Mandy rolls her eyes at him.

“Now you sound like my brother,” she snarks. He smiles. 

“Sorry to miss the wedding.”

She hugs him. “Don’t worry. I just hope Mick is there. Now let me say bye to my little guy!”

Mickey hands Nathan over, and she kisses his face multiple times, eliciting giggles from the kid. They’re big fans of each other, these two.

“I’m gonna miss you, you little shit,” she says in a sweet voice. “But I’ll always love you, okay? You’ve got such great dads looking after you.”

Mickey feels choked up just watching them. He hopes his real sister is okay and ready to meet her nephew. 

“I hope Ian and I make babies half as cute as him,” she says, handing Nathan back. “In a few years, I mean.”

“Take your time, they’re a lot of work,” Mickey says, bouncing his son on his hip. “But they don’t get much cuter.”

Too soon, they have to leave. Nathan gets his sedative patch and nods off in Mickey’s arms. Ian keeps an arm around both of them the whole time. 

Right before their turn, Mickey pulls him in for a kiss. Ian cups his face in his hands.

“I’m right here.” 

“I know,” Mickey replies, holding their son tight between them.

And before Mickey knows it, they’re home.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally finished this! I was stuck on how to end the story, but I decided to leave it open-ended and just have them make it home safely. I was honestly trying to take my cues from the real-life pandemic, but seeing as how it's still going on, I decided to end the story now and leave things hopeful. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and take care of yourselves!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in three hours and it's not even done yet, so please, bear with me. 
> 
> The one upside to being told to stay home to avoid a pandemic is all the time I can spending writing! I don't miss taking socialization for granted at all! (Seriously, I hope you are all doing as well as you can under the circumstances.)
> 
> More to come!


End file.
